Chapter Eleven #3
As soon as he walked away, Advika shrugged off Sidharth's hand and stood. "We're leaving. Now."
She didn't wait for his response, just headed for the exit. She made it to their car—the driver had been dismissed earlier—before he caught up with her.
"Advika—"
She spun on him. "Don't. Don't you dare 'Advika' me right now."
"He was—"
"He was what? Being polite? Offering me a professional opportunity? Treating me like a capable businesswoman?" Her voice rose with each word. "God forbid someone shows interest in my work instead of just seeing me as your property!"
"That's not what I—"
"That's exactly what you did!" She yanked open the car door, climbing into the backseat. "You swooped in like some territorial caveman and basically announced I'm not allowed to make my own business decisions!"
Sidharth slid in beside her, closing the door. The privacy partition was already up—thank God, because this conversation was about to get ugly.
"He was looking at you like—"
"Like what? Like I'm a person? Like I'm interesting?" Advika turned to face him fully. "You don't get to be jealous, Sidharth. You don't get to decide who I talk to or what opportunities I accept when you won't even admit I'm more than a contract to you!"
"You are MORE!" The words exploded from him, loud in the confined space. "You're so much fucking more and you know it!"
The admission hung between them, raw and desperate.
"Then say it," Advika demanded. "Stop dancing around it. Stop hiding behind 'you're mine' and possession and jealousy. Tell me what I actually am to you!"
"You're everything!" He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him.
"You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing before I sleep.
You're the reason I come home early and the reason I can't focus in meetings.
You're the woman who makes me want to be better, do better, be the man you see when you look at me instead of the broken bastard I actually am! "
Advika's breath caught. "Sidharth—"
"I watched him make you laugh," he continued, his voice rough.
"Watched him look at you like you hung the moon.
Watched you smile at him the way you smile at me, and I wanted to rip his throat out.
Not because he's a threat to some business arrangement, but because the thought of anyone else having your attention, your smiles, your time—it makes me insane. "
"That's not—"
"I know it's not healthy. I know it's possessive and probably fucked up. But I can't help it." His forehead dropped to hers. "You've gotten under my skin, Advika. Into my head, my heart, and I don't know how to function with you there and the thought of you not being there terrifies me even more."
It was the closest he'd come to saying he loved her. Maybe as close as he could get right now.
"I wasn't flirting with him," she said quietly. "I was being professional. He offered me a job."
"I know."
"And I'm going to take it."
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. "I know."
"You have to trust me," she continued. "Not just with the big things, but with the small stuff too. Trust that when a man talks to me, I'm not going to throw myself at him. Trust that I can handle a business conversation without you intervening."
"I'm working on it." His hands slid from her face to her neck, thumbs brushing along her jaw. "But when I see other men looking at you, touching you, making you laugh... something in me just snaps."
"Good," she said, surprising him. "I like knowing you care enough to be jealous. But you have to learn to control it. To trust me."
"I do trust you." His voice dropped. "It's them I don't trust."
Before she could respond, he was kissing her—desperate, claiming, all the jealousy and possession and need he couldn't voice translated into touch.
Advika melted into it, her hands fisting in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The confined space of the car made every movement feel more intense, more necessary.
"You're mine," he growled against her lips. "Say it."
"I'm yours," she gasped as his mouth moved to her neck. "But you're mine too. Say it, Sidharth. Say you're mine."
His hands found the zipper of her gown, dragging it down. "I'm yours. Only yours. No one else's."
The admission sent heat pooling through her. She fumbled with his belt, his pants, needing to touch him, needing him inside her.
He pushed her dress up, bunching the expensive fabric around her waist. His hand wrapped gently around her throat—not squeezing, just resting there, possessive and erotic.
"Look at me," he commanded. "I want to see your eyes when I take you."
She met his gaze as he pushed inside her, both of them groaning at the sensation. The city lights outside cast moving shadows across their bodies, creating an intimate cocoon in the backseat.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his hips moving in slow, deep thrusts. "For me to admit you're mine? That I need you?"
"Yes," she moaned, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
"Say I'm yours," he demanded, his hand tightening fractionally on her throat. "Say it, Advika."
"You're mine," she gasped. "My husband. My lover. Mine."
"And who do you belong to?"
"You. Only you." She could feel her orgasm building, pleasure coiling tight in her core. "Sidharth, please—"
"Please what?" His free hand slid between them, finding her clit. "Tell me what you need."
"You. I need you. Only you, not anyone else, just you—"
The words seemed to break something in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, the car rocking with their movement. His hand stayed on her throat, a constant reminder of his claim, while his other hand worked her clit with practiced precision.
"Come for me," he ordered. "Come while I'm inside you, while my hand is on your throat, while you remember who you belong to."
She shattered, crying out his name as pleasure crashed through her. He followed moments later, her name a prayer and a curse on his lips.
They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, bodies pressed together, the windows fogged from their exertion.
"We should go inside," Advika finally said, though she made no move to pull away.
"In a minute." He pressed kisses to her shoulder, her neck, her jaw. "I'm not done with you yet."
"We're in a car—"
"Then let's move this inside." He pulled out carefully, helping her adjust her dress. "To our bedroom. Where I can take my time with you properly."
They barely made it through the front door before they were on each other again. Sidharth had her pressed against the wall in the foyer, his hands everywhere, murmuring words against her skin that sounded like confessions.
They left a trail of clothes from the foyer to the stairs to their bedroom—her dress, his jacket, his shirt, shoes kicked off haphazardly.
By the time they reached the bed, they were both desperate again.
He laid her down with surprising gentleness, his eyes roaming over her body with undisguised hunger and something that looked almost like reverence.
"You're so beautiful," he said, settling between her thighs. "So perfect. Mine."
"Yours," she agreed, pulling him down for a kiss.
This time, they took their time. He worshipped every inch of her skin with his mouth and hands, finding every spot that made her gasp and whimper. She explored him in turn, mapping the scars on his body with gentle fingers, kissing each one like she could heal old wounds with her lips.
When he finally entered her again, it was slow and sweet, their eyes locked, no walls between them. They moved together in perfect synchronicity, two people who'd been at odds finally finding their rhythm.
"I—" Sidharth started, then stopped, his jaw clenching.
"It's okay," Advika whispered, understanding. "I know. I can feel it."
The words he couldn't quite say yet were there in his touch, in the way he held her, in the way he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in his world.
It would have to be enough.
For now, it was.
They fell asleep tangled together, satisfied and content, the walls between them cracking just a little bit more.
And for the first time in their marriage, both of them felt like maybe—just maybe—they were going to make it after all.